The First Christmas
by Voyager Tip
Summary: Hardcastle hadn't celebrated Christmas since losing his family. Then, along came McCormick, and those walls just had to come down.
1. December 23rd

Chapter 1 -December 23rd

Mark McCormick sat at the dining table in the Gatehouse staring at the 18 inch high tree in front of him. He had just finished draping a popcorn chain and a string of lights around it. It was all he could afford, and he had been staring at it and thinking for several minutes.

"Hey, McCormick," the gruff voice of Milton C. Hardcastle reached McCormick's ears before the door was thrust open and the man entered. It was enough of a warning for Mark to push his thoughts aside and arrange his face in a neutral gaze before he turned his head.

"I'm right here judge, you don't have to shout."

Hardcastle paused and glanced at the tree on the table as he watched his newest rehab project hastily rise.

"A pretty pathetic tree," he commented with a hard edge to his voice.

The ex-con looked away briefly, then turned back with a smile.

"I know you must've come in here for something judge, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I've got a new job for ya, come on out and I'll explain it to you."

Mark sighed and followed him outside and across the lawn toward the sea wall.

H&M

It looked to Mark as if the debris that had littered the outside of the sea wall had been collecting for many years. Why the judge needed him to start cleaning it up today was a mystery. In fact, he admitted, quite a few things about the judge were a mystery to him. As he worked, and thought about things, he began muttering to himself, secretly glad that Hardcastle wasn't there to hear.

H&M

Supper had been quiet and uncomfortable. There was no invitation to watch a movie, and McCormick thought that was just as well. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and he just couldn't keep acting like this was just like every other day. The way the judge was acting seemed like Christmas was something to be suffered through, not something to enjoy. In fact, as the big day approached, he realized that Hardcastle seemed to be totally ignoring it.

H&M

Milton C. Hardcastle trudged up the stairs later that evening, after watching the only non holiday movie he could find. He'd sent McCormick packing after supper, half afraid that he'd want to watch one of the classic Christmas movies that were showing this evening. There was something about having the ex-con around during the holiday that scared him. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt so uncomfortable. Since McCormick had come to live here, he'd slid into Hardcastle's life like no other person had ever done, except Nancy, his beloved wife. McCormick had become someone the judge could count on. Someone he trusted and wanted to spend time with. Almost like a… friend.

McCormick was someone he could think about spending a real Christmas with, but his thoughts could get no further than that. He couldn't even entertain the idea of sharing his Christmas traditions with anyone but Nancy and Tommy.

And there was no reason the kid should think otherwise. After all, he was McCormick's parole officer, and you just didn't celebrate Christmas with your parole officer. Let Mark have his Christmas traditions with his own family… wherever they were, and he'd have his… in his heart… and alone.

He thought back over the events of the day and reflected that he really hadn't intended to give McCormick a hard time. The truth was, he'd spent most of the day either complaining about the work he'd done or the food he'd made for supper. Between the complaints, even in normal conversation, he knew his tone had been harsh and nasty.

It had really begun at Thanksgiving though. That was when he'd realized that McCormick was very different from all the other ex-cons he'd shared the past 10 holidays with. He'd let him make a turkey and had enjoyed the meal, and the leftovers, but afterward, he'd been angry.

Up until now, Hardcastle hadn't understood the anger, but it had been building up as Christmas approached. Now, with the big holiday just 2 days away, things had come to a head. Now he knew what the problem was. McCormick had slowly been displacing his family. He'd been making the holidays mean something again, and Milt had decided he needed to put a stop to it.

He had told the kid in no uncertain terms, more than 2 weeks ago, that there would be no Christmas tree and no decorations. He would not be celebrating Christmas. This year would be like every other since he'd lost his family.

His heart ached as he thought back to that last Christmas. First, the day after Thanksgiving, the news had come. His only child, his beloved son, had been killed in Vietnam. Then, Nancy's turn for the worse the week after Tommy's burial. By Christmas, she was gone. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas that year, he'd lost his whole world, and nothing would ever be the same.

He sat down heavily on the bed and sighed, his heart aching. He tried to shut out the feelings, but it seemed to hurt more this year, and it was somehow connected with McCormick. The pain hadn't been this acute for a long time.

He'd been surprised to see the small tree on the table when he'd gone to the gatehouse. More surprised that the only decorations were a string of popcorn and some lights. He shouldn't have made fun of it, and he might not have, except that when he saw the tiny manger scene beside it, something seemed to snap.

With a long sigh that seemed to come from deep inside him, he lay down, determined not to think about McCormick or the Christmas holiday. He would think about fishing, and maybe, he would be able to get some sleep.


	2. Christmases Past

Author's Note: As I wrote this, I realized that it was a bit hard to separate the dialog between the judge and the ghosts, from the dialog of what they were observing. Italics didn't look like enough of a difference for some reason, so I used bold italics for that the judge and the ghosts. It proved to be a little harder to write than I thought. But, here is the rest of the story. :)

Chapter 2 -Christmases Past

 _ **Hardcastle awoke with a start. "What?" he asked the empty room.**_

" _ **You wanted to think about fishing eh?" a voice asked from across the room.**_

 _ **The judge grabbed for his gun, where it was always kept in the drawer beside his bed. He stood to face the voice and pointed the weapon.**_

" _ **That can't hurt me," said the voice calmly.**_

" _ **Who are you?" Milt asked as he reached to turn on the light.**_

" _ **I'm somebody else who likes to fish."**_

" _ **Tommy?" Milt paused, "this can't be happening," he said to his son.**_

" _ **It's me Dad, but I can't stay for long, just long enough to do my job."**_

" _ **What job?" the judge asked as he walked over to the figure. Tommy smiled as his father reached out to touch him, and his hand went right through.**_

" _ **You can't touch me… I wish you could."**_

 _ **Milt shook his head. "What is this?"**_

" _ **I'm here to take you back a few years… tonight, I'm the ghost of Christmases Past."**_

 _ **Tommy motioned to the door of the room and placed his hand through Milt's chest toward his heart.**_


	3. Hardcastle Family Christmases

_**Milt chuckled at the scene that met his eyes. An eight year old Tommy was pretending to fish off the sofa with his new fishing pole.**_

" _ **I think this was my favorite Christmas present ever," said the ghost.**_

" _ **Yeah, that was a great pole. We sure did get a lot of use out of it."**_

" _ **It wasn't the pole Dad, it was all the time I got to spend with you. Everything you taught me. They were the best times of my life."**_

Nancy walked in then and called the little family to dinner.

Tears sprang to his eyes as Milt saw his wife… young, happy and healthy. He watched himself and Nancy and Tommy sit down and heard Nancy start to say grace.

" _ **It's time to go," said the ghost.**_

" _ **No, we just got here, can't we stay awhile more?"**_

" _ **I could show you lots of other Christmases, and every one would be happy. All through my childhood. But, let's see another quite memorable one..."**_

ooOoo

And suddenly they were outside, in front of the garage. The vette was sitting in its usual place but the hood was dented. Milt could hear his past self yelling.

"You could've been killed! Of all the stupid, lame-brained stunts! I thought you had more brains than that! What were you thinking?" he yelled in a voice that was very similar to the one he'd used so often with McCormick.

Silence.

"Well?"

"All the guys were doing it Dad…" the excuse petered out, apparently even Tommy knew it was a terrible excuse.

"Well, it'll be a long time before you drive a car again Tom, any car."

"I'm sorry Dad," said the boy.

"Go to your room," his father ordered.

After Tommy left, Nancy appeared at Milt's side.

"Christmas is tomorrow Milt," she whispered.

"I won't be in a Christmas frame of mind by tomorrow. Let's celebrate it the day after tomorrow."

"Oh Milt, do you really think we need to do that?"

"He's 16 years old Nancy. He needs to accept the consequences of his actions. Christmas a day late is a hell of a lot better than Christmas in jail."

"Do you want me to tell him?"

"Nope. I'll tell him."

" _ **That was a strange Christmas for me Dad. But even though Christmas was delayed, and you were really angry, I always felt loved. I knew you were upset because I could've been hurt, and I knew deep down that it was a stupid thing to do."**_

" _ **It was hard to give you that punishment. I was really looking forward to teaching you to shoot."**_

" _ **When you gave me the rifle the day after Christmas, I knew all was forgiven. And target practice with you was another one of my best memories."**_

" _ **I've always loved you Tommy, I haven't always known how to show it..."**_

" _ **We have to go…"**_


	4. McCormick Family Christmases

They stood in a small room. The shabby furniture was covered with colorful throws. A curly headed boy lay on the floor, pushing a small fire truck up to a stack of several decks of cards and making a siren sound.

"I'm ready to go sweetie," said a pretty young woman who had just entered the room. The boy stood up and gave her a hug.

"Don't forget, tomorrow's Christmas," he told her.

"I could never forget Christmas Mark, it's when Hope came into the world."

"I know, and you will always hope for a better future," the boy repeated the phrase in a monotone, a phrase that he had obviously heard many times, and then laughed.

"Your sandwich is on a plate in the fridge, go to bed at 9:30… no later… and I'll be home before you know it."

"Do you really have to work?" the boys lip trembled slightly.

"I really do honey, someone has to take care of all the people who go into the hospital, even at Christmas. And tonight I make triple time, and I'll still be here with you on Christmas morning. Won't that be good?"

Mark smiled up at his mother and nodded.

"Besides, you'll never be alone, because God is always watching over you."

"I know Mom."

And soon she was gone, and the boy was left alone.

" _ **That's McCormick isn't it? Hardcastle asked, wanting to be sure.**_

" _ **As an eight year old, yes. He's someone special, but I guess you already know that."**_

 _ **There was an uncomfortable silence.**_

"Please God, keep me safe and bring Mommy back to me soon. Amen."

 _ **Milt felt a lump in his throat as the words reached him and he looked over to see the small head bowed down.**_

Suddenly it was 6 o'clock and they watched the boy take the sandwich out of the refrigerator and squeal when he realized there was a small matchbox car on the plate beside it. Then they watched him eat the sandwich with one hand as he "drove" the car across the table with the other.

 _ **Milt chuckled, "he hasn't changed any," he said with affection.**_

" _ **No, he's always loved cars, the faster, the better," Tommy replied.**_

Suddenly it was 9:30 and they watched as the curly haired boy said his prayers and climbed into one of the two beds that Milt suddenly noticed in the corner.

" _ **How do you make the time go by like that?" Milt asked Tommy.**_

" _ **Time is nothing to us," was the cryptic answer.**_

" _ **Us?"**_

Suddenly it was 11:30 pm and there was a woman watching the boy from the doorway. She entered quietly, trying not to disturb the child, and sat down wearily on one of the overstuffed chairs. She carried a large shoulder bag, and slowly removed two items from it. One was a familiar looking medal on a chain, and the other was a tall canister of Tinkertoys. She carefully wrapped them, and placed them under the small sparsely decorated tree in the corner.

" _ **So that's where he got the medal," Hardcastle whispered.**_

" _ **Yes, but they can't hear us, you don't have to whisper."**_

Suddenly it was morning. Mark woke up and jumped out of bed excitedly and then hopped on top of his mother.

"Wake up Mom, it's Christmas!" he called out while giving her a big hug.

"What should we do first?" asked his mother with a yawn.

"I know," and Mark immediately got up and ran to a chest of drawers. He pulled open the top one and brought back something small. Milt couldn't quite see what it was until he placed it in the manger.

"Can't have Christmas without the baby Jesus," Mark told his mother.

"That's right, and he represents Hope for the world, and hope for us too. No matter how hard things get during your life Mark, always remember that you can have hope, no one can take that away from you, especially at Christmas."

"Can we open presents now?" Mark asked excitedly.

"Yes, now we can open presents," his mother answered.

 _ **And Milt began to watch the heartwarming scene as they exchanged presents and loving words.**_

" _ **It's time to go," said the ghost.**_

" _ **He's gonna love those Tinkertoys" Hardcastle chuckled. "That kid loves to put things together and then take them apart."**_

 _H &M_

Suddenly, they were standing on the sidewalk, outside the Emergency Entrance of of a hospital.

" _ **What are we here for?" Milt asked Tommy, but the apparition no longer looked like his son. "Where's Tommy?"**_

" _ **He was here only to show you happy memories. Mark will be here soon."**_

 _ **They could hear Christmas music coming from across the street.**_

" _ **I want to see Tommy again!"**_

" _ **It's Christmas Eve," the ghost continued, ignoring the demand. "A lot has happened to Mark since we saw him. He's 12 years old now, and he's been living with his uncle and aunt for the past few months, since his mother died. His uncle just finished beating him. He'll be dropping him off soon."**_

" _ **His mother died when he was 12?" the judge asked, as a cold stone seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach. "Where is his father?"**_

" _ **He was eleven when she died. This is not about his father."**_

The car skidded to a stop, the engine still running. A man who had obviously been drinking, got out of the driver's seat and walked around to open the passenger door. He yanked a curly haired boy out onto the sidewalk and pulled on his collar until his mouth was close to the child's ear.

"If you tell them I did this to you, you won't live to see your next birthday," he whispered threateningly. Then, he pushed the boy toward the door of the hospital, and sped off in the car.

Milt stared at Mark in horror. He was shaking and sobbing, clutching his obviously broken left arm with his right hand. He stood unsteadily, staring after the car as it sped away. Then, slowly he limped through the doorway and into the hospital.

" _ **This can't be happening," MIlt said, turning to speak with the ghost.**_

Suddenly they were in a tiny cubicle. Mark lay on a stretcher in front of them, surrounded by people in white coats.

"He needs something for pain," one voice was saying.

"We don't even know his name."

"Call him a John Doe then, but let me give him something."

Through it all, Mark lay quietly, clutching the medal that hung around his neck, and whispering to himself.

 _ **Hardcastle bent down to listen.**_

"Please God, don't send me back to him." the boy was whispering. "Please give me someone to take care of me."

 _ **Milt stood up, shaken.**_

" _ **How could you let this happen to him?" he asked the apparition.**_

" _ **I'm only showing you what has been. None of this can be changed. It's time to go."**_


	5. What's Happening Now?

Milt Hardcastle sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and shaking. What a dream… had it been a dream? It had seemed so real. He got up and walked around the room. He turned on the light and got a drink of water.

"This is crazy," he whispered as he calmed down. "Like something from an old Dicken's novel."

He climbed back into bed and closed his eyes.

" _ **What?" he asked, sitting bolt upright.**_

" _ **Hello Milt," Nancy greeted him from where she was sitting at the foot of the bed.**_

" _ **Nancy? It can't be you, can it?"**_

" _ **It's me."**_

" _ **This has to be a dream."**_

" _ **Well, yes, but it's still me Milt. I've missed you."**_

 _ **Hardcastle's jaw dropped and he sat in shock.**_

" _ **This is where you're supposed to say that you missed me too. But that's okay, I know how much you've missed me. You haven't been yourself since I left, and I wish…" Nancy paused, "well, I want you to know that I've never been far away."**_

 _ **Milt reached toward her but as with the apparition that looked like Tommy, his hand passed right through her. "Why are you here?"**_

" _ **Because I've seen you come alive again, and I've missed that so much. During the past few months, you've changed so much, you've gotten your life back Milt, and now I'm afraid you're throwing it all away."**_

" _ **I don't understand, Nancy."**_

" _ **Then come with me and I'll show you."**_

 _ **When the jurist didn't rise, she continued, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present."**_

" _ **But I know what's happening now!"**_

" _ **Do you really? Let's see if you do."**_

 _ **And they disappeared.**_

H&M

They were in a discount store, standing beside Mark McCormick. They watched as he picked up some ornaments, lights, tinsel and a star for the top of a tree. He already had a small tree in the carriage, the roots sticking out of the top and undersides of the pot. He pushed the carriage off to the side of the aisle and took out his wallet.

"$11.50, that's not enough." He sighed and picked up several of the items, obviously thinking. Then, he put back the ornaments, the star and the tinsel.

"Well, it's still a real tree, and with lights and some popcorn, I bet it'll look great," he whispered.

" _ **I know why you're showing this to me, I get it okay? I shouldn't have made fun of it," Milt explained.**_

" _ **Milt, I wish I could say more, but you have to figure this out yourself," Nancy told him.**_

Suddenly they were in the gatehouse.

McCormick was sitting at the table, staring at the tree. He slowly took his wallet out and removed a picture, setting it down carefully on the table next to him.

 _ **Milt leaned down and recognized his mother.**_

"I finally understand what you were trying to teach me mom. I know it might have seemed like I got it back then, but I didn't." He shook his head, and picked up the picture.

"For the first time since I lost you, I finally have that hope you were always talking about. Not hope for one particular thing, but hope that maybe I can change my life. Hope that I can be what I was really meant to be. Hope that it's not too late."

There was a long silence.

"I know you must already know about the judge, but, he's the person who's showing me how to live. How an honorable man lives in this crazy world. Someday, maybe I'll be able to tell him what being here with him has meant to me, but not now. Mom, if you can, talk to God and ask him to help the judge. He's being so mean, and I know it's because he misses his family at Christmas. Sarah told me before she left that he never celebrates Christmas. That's okay I guess, but why does he seem to hate me so much? All I want to do is help him through the holiday. Please, ask God to show me how to do that. He shouldn't be suffering, he deserves so much more than that."

There was a few seconds of stillness, then McCormick picked up the needle and thread and started stringing the popcorn.

 _ **Hardcastle stood rigid, staring at McCormick as he made the popcorn chain and draped it tenderly around the tree.**_

"I love you Mom," he whispered, "I miss you so much at Christmas, but I'm doing better this year. A lot better, thanks to the judge."

"Hey, McCormick," the gruff voice of Milton C. Hardcastle reached McCormick's ears before the door was thrust open and the man entered. It was enough of a warning for Mark to push his thoughts aside and arrange his face in a neutral gaze before he turned his head.

"I'm right here judge, you don't have to shout."

Hardcastle paused and glanced at the tree on the table as he watched his newest rehab project hastily rise.

"A pretty pathetic tree," he commented with a hard edge to his voice.

The ex-con looked away briefly, then turned back with a smile.

" _ **I'm so sorry kiddo," Milt whispered as he noticed Mark's attempt to control his emotions.**_

"I know you must've come in here for something judge, what can I do for you?" McCormick asked.

"I've got a new job for ya, come on out and I'll show you."

Mark sighed and followed him outside and across the lawn toward the sea wall.

" _ **Let's follow along," said Nancy, pointing after them.**_

Suddenly they were on the other side of the sea wall. Hardcastle was gone, and Mark was dragging debris from many past storm surges, up to a pile up on the lawn. They watched him working, and steadily, the area was looking better. He muttered as he worked.

"Why today judge?" he said, even though the judge wasn't anywhere close by. "Did you want me out of the way because I might start humming a Christmas Carol? You afraid I might annoy you because I'm happy? You've gotta be the biggest donkey I've ever met. Ow!"

They watched as Mark grabbed his right hand with his left and saw a trickle of blood on his wrist.

"Great! Just what I need! Hardcastle can't stand me when I'm healthy, what's he gonna say if I show him this?"

He stood next to the path, staring at his wrist. All it really needed was a bandaide. "If I go back to the gatehouse, he's probably looking out the window and all he'll do is yell," he said aloud. He looked at it closely, the bleeding had already stopped and the scratch wasn't deep. He frowned at the scratch, glanced up to the top of the path, and muttered, "it'll be fine," then resumed his work.

" _ **It's time for us to go Milt."**_

" _ **Nancy, please, talk to me. Can I still feel the spirit of Christmas without you?"**_

" _ **You've never been without me, but I'm afraid for you now. It's like I said, you have to figure it out yourself."**_


	6. The Future

"Nancy!" Milt called out as he sat bolt upright in the bed. He looked around at the empty room and reached up to his forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat.

"My God, this is crazy," he whispered. "I'm not going back to sleep, I refuse to have another dream." So he threw off the covers and got up, determined to take charge of the rest of the night. He walked to the window and glanced out. It was a peaceful night, with a half moon. Nothing looked out of place. He sighed and tried to think about something other than what he'd been dreaming about. Fishing maybe… no, that had started the whole mess. Tommy and that fishing pole. He smiled as he remembered the past.

" _ **You can't live in the past son," said a voice from across the room.**_

 _ **Milt took a step back, startled. "Who are you?" he asked.**_

" _ **I think you know Milton."**_

" _ **Dad?"**_

" _ **I'm sorry you've been through so much, and that I wasn't here to help."**_

" _ **You couldn't exactly help it Dad," Milt answered and smiled. "Are you here to show me something too?"**_

" _ **Yes Milton, and it's time to go."**_

Suddenly they were in a cemetery. Three people stood around a newly dug grave. As they approached, the minister began to walk away.

 _ **Hardcastle hung back, suddenly afraid. "Who are you Dad?"**_

" _ **I'm the ghost of Christmas Future."**_

" _ **Who's being buried?"**_

" _ **Why don't you get closer and see."**_

 _ **As Milt approached, he could see Frank Harper and McCormick, each looking quite a bit older, standing side by side.**_

"I'm surprised to see you here Mark, how did you even find out, aren't you living in Nevada now?"

"Yeah, but I try to keep tabs on him... I owe him a lot Frank. I wish he'd let me keep in touch after my parole was up."

"Yeah, he just kind of kicked you out didn't he?"

"He never let me get very close to him."

"He never really got over losing his family," Harper offered.

"I could've been his family Frank. If he would've just opened up a little, I know I could've" he paused, "well, it doesn't matter now anyway."

"I guess not."

"Was he alone at the end?" McCormick asked softly.

"Yeah, he was. The housekeeper found him slumped over his desk. He'd been dead for about a week."

"He deserved better than that."

"Yeah, he did. Hey, you wanna get a cup of coffee?" Frank asked.

"That'd be nice, thanks."

And the two walked away together.

" _ **Not found for a week? Is that how it all ends?" Milt asked his father.**_

" _ **Maybe, but it doesn't have to. You have a chance to change this. This does not have to be your future."**_

 _ **Silence.**_

" _ **McCormick. He's my chance to have… something more, isn't he?"**_

" _ **It's time for me to go, son."**_

 _ **And the apparition was gone.**_


	7. Another Christmas Eve in the ER

The phone had rung twice before Hardcastle picked up the receiver.

"Hello," he mumbled, squinting at the clock, it was 4:20 am.

"It's me," Mark's voice sounded hesitant.

"It's 4 in the morning McCormick!" he grumbled, but then he held it back, suddenly aware that the kid's voice didn't sound quite right.

Mark took a breath in, he hated the fact that he had to call and ask for a favor, but he couldn't see any other way, short of calling an ambulance and he sure wasn't about to do that. The memory of Hardcastle's nasty comments was still fresh in his mind. He would have done almost anything to avoid this call.

"I need ya to drop me off at the hospital," he said evenly, figuring 'drop me off' sounded less like a favor than 'drive me'.

"What?" Milt came wide awake, "what happened?"

"Just... come over here," Mark said as he hung up the phone. He leaned back in his chair, continuing to cradle his right arm with his left. The pain was getting worse by the minute.

Hardcastle pulled his clothes on quickly and grabbed his keys on his way out the door. All thoughts of arguing were gone, replaced immediately by one scary thought. The kid hated hospitals, he'd never asked to go the the hospital before, much less in the middle of the night. He jogged over to the gatehouse and let himself in.

"McCormick?" he called out.

"I'm here," the soft voice came from the couch.

"What's going on?" Milt asked worriedly as he walked straight to his partner.

Mark didn't think he could explain, so he held out his right arm in explanation. The wrist was bright red and twice the size it should be.

"What the heck happened?" Milt asked as he glanced from the wrist to the kid's face.

"I can't drive like this," Mark explained, a bit breathless.

"There's a red line up your arm…" Milt's unfinished sentence hung in the air.

"We should get going," Mark whispered, and Milt was suddenly struck with the fact that the voice didn't sound quite as energetic as usual. In fact, it sounded weak.

"I'll bring the truck around, just sit tight."

Milt parked the truck in front of the door and hurried inside to help Mark out. As they drove, he glanced often at the ex-con.

"You shoulda called me sooner kiddo," he finally said.

"Yeah, well… I thought it could wait til morning… and we haven't been…," the sentence stopped and the silence hung heavily between them.

"Nothing would get in the way of this, you should know that!" Milt lectured angrily.

"It wasn't this bad at first."

"I don't care how bad it was, it wouldn't matter!"

Silence.

"I spose not."

Milt's stomach tightened when he heard the tone of Mark's answer. It wasn't angry, or loud. On the contrary, it was soft, and carefully measured. It sounded like someone in serious pain.

He applied the brakes suddenly at an intersection, and reached out to put a protective hand on the kid's chest. When Mark didn't immediately push him away, he knew the situation was quickly getting worse.

They got to the emergency entrance and the judge helped Mark out of the truck and walked with him inside. As they approached the desk, he explained the situation, and showed the offending limb to the triage nurse.

"Come right in," she said, quickly grasping the situation, and suddenly, they were in a cubicle and an IV was being started.

Hardcastle watched the staff work, grateful that they seemed to be well aware that this was a serious situation, but worried that Mark wasn't answering their questions very quickly.

"Sir, I need you to move your truck," the security guard poked his head into the treatment area and addressed the judge.

"I'll be right back kiddo," Hardcastle told him and squeezed his shoulder as the nurse was putting oxygen tubing under his nose and around his ears.

 _What in the world had happened?_ he wondered as he went to move the truck to the Emergency Department parking lot. _Why did he wait so long to call me?_ Well, he knew the answer to that one. With his recent hostility fresh in his mind, Mark hadn't wanted to ask any favors from him. But driving him to the hospital wasn't like any other favor, God, didn't Mark know that Hardcastle would die to save his life? And based on the way things looked right now, this could have been life threatening if he'd waited too much longer. He didn't want to be melodramatic, but, with the infection climbing up his arm like that, it still might be.

His heart pounding, he shoved the shift lever violently into 'park' and soon was walking back through the Emergency Entrance.

The nurse was just leaving the cubicle by the time he got back.

"Do you know what happened?" Milt asked her.

"He says he scratched himself on a slimy rock while he was working on a sea wall. It looks like he just got a very nasty germ in the cut," the nurse answered. "My name is Amy, and I'll be here until 7 am."

Milt shook his head, "we're always getting scratched up... but nothing like this has ever happened, this is crazy."

"Once in awhile we see something like this."

"How is he? He'll be okay, right?"

She hesitated and motioned for the doctor to come over.

"Dr. Farley is treating him, he should answer your questions," she explained as a tall dark haired man in a white coat approached.

After repeating his questions, Milt listened to the answers.

"The infection is still getting worse. I ordered two antibiotics and something for pain. He should improve as the antibiotics start to work."

"So he'll be okay?"

"I'd like to see some improvement over the next few hours. We'll be keeping a pretty close eye on that arm. You're welcome to stay."

"Okay, thanks doc," Hardcastle said and then turned to walk back into the cubicle. He sat beside the stretcher, his eyes traveling to Mark's arm which was elevated on 2 pillows. A line had been drawn in ink around the reddened area and it struck the judge as a pretty obvious way to tell if the infection was getting better or worse. He stared at the line and prayed that the red area would start to get smaller.

"Thanks," the words were very soft and Mark's eyes remained closed.

Milt smiled, "how'd you know I was here?"

"You're always here."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Milt asked, thinking back to his earlier behavior.

"It's always a good thing judge, even when you're driving me crazy."

Milt shook his head.

"I can't leave you alone... look what happens! Honestly kiddo, you say I'm the one who can find trouble anywhere, but this…. you've got me beat with this one."

Silence.

Towards the end of the first hour, Milt thought he could see that the red line had stopped advancing up his arm and the red area was smaller. Mark had been dozing most of the time, due to the pain medicine and the early hour, but Hardcastle never closed his eyes. He sat staring at the ex-con, and thinking about the dreams he'd had earlier.

ooOoo

At 9 am, Mark suddenly woke up. "Morning," he said when he saw the judge sitting beside the stretcher. They were still in the Emergency Room, and based on how Mark felt, he was sure he'd be discharged soon.

"It's about time you woke up. Your wrist looks better."

"Yeah, I think I'm on the mend."

"Good, cuz this is a crazy place to spend Christmas Eve kiddo," Hardcastle lectured him.

"It's not the only Christmas Eve I've ever spent in the ER," Mark responded, "and certainly not the worst judge. When can we go home?"

Hardcastle considered the comment. Should he ask? Could the dream have been true?

Just then, Mark reached up and grasped the medal in his left hand. The gesture was exactly the same one he'd made as a 12 year old.

"It can't be" Hardcastle thought to himself, "I've seen him grasp it like that a thousand times, that's why it seems so familiar."

Almost against his will, he asked the question.

"What happened the last time you were in the ER on Christmas Eve?"

"Uhh, it's a long story judge."

"I've got time kiddo."

"I don't remember much really, I was only 12."

It was a painful memory. Hardcastle could see that, and understand it. Besides, he realized that he didn't need to know anymore.

"I'll ask when we can get out of here," he said instead, then left to find the doctor who was treating McCormick.


	8. Home Again

"These are horse pills judge!" Mark exclaimed. He was sitting at the dining room table in the main house, staring at the huge pill in front of him.

"Will you stop complaining and just take it?" Hardcastle called from the kitchen, where he was making lunch.

"I'm not kidding judge, I don't think I can swallow this," Mark continued.

"Oh for pity's sake McCormick, just…. wow, those ARE big," he conceded. "The last time I had to take an antibiotic, they were small pills."

"Well, I guess because I have this wacky germ, I need this giant antibiotic."

"Yeah, well, when you do it you do it right," Hardcastle answered.

"I guess I'll have ta chew it," McCormick said distastefully as he made a face.

"That's gonna taste terrible. Give me a chance to see what I can do about it."

Mark stared at the judge, "what could YOU do about it?"

"Well, first off, I'm gonna call the pharmacy and ask if we can crush these. Then, how do you feel about applesauce?"

"Applesauce?" answered a dazed McCormick as the judge left for the den.

Ten minutes later he was back.

"We can crush them, now I just have to find it."

"Find what?"

"The pill crusher."

"What's a pill crusher?"

Hardcastle rolled his eyes, "what you use to crush pills with, what'da you think?" the judge answered as he left the room again and headed upstairs.

Ten minutes later he carried a small device into the dining room and set about crushing the large pill and putting it and some applesauce in front of McCormick.

"You'll have to do the mixing, I can't do everything you know," he grumped.

Mark smiled and shook his head as he mixed the crushed medication and the applesauce together.

"Thanks judge," he said quietly after taking the medicine.

"I need to go out for a bit, I want you to rest while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?" Mark asked.

"I won't be long," was the non-answer,


	9. A Hardcastle & McCormick Christmas

Hardcastle returned an hour later with a large bag to find McCormick sound asleep on the couch in the den. He put the bag down on the dining room table, then went to the gatehouse and carried the little tree and the manger back with him. He placed them carefully at the end of the dining table, and took the ornaments, tinsel and star out of the bag. The discount store he'd seen in his dream was one where he and McCormick had often shopped. It hadn't been hard to find the decorations.

"What're you doing?" Mark asked later, as he walked into the dining room.

"Well, since you're gonna stay here tonight, I thought we may as well put a few more things on the tree," Hardcastle answered.

"It looks great judge...thanks."

"Well, it's a nice tree, but next Christmas we'll get a big tree for the den and put it up early enough so we can enjoy it for awhile." He cleared his throat and took a shaky breath.

"That sounds great."

"You can plant this one outside if you want, then when you see it every year, you can remember…" he couldn't go on.

"Our first Christmas together," Mark finished the sentence and the judge nodded.

"The manger's missing something, I didn't know where you put it."

"That's okay judge, we won't need the baby until tomorrow."

 _The End - Merry Christmas to all the fans of this great show!_


End file.
